Aguafiesta

I've been a dreadful blogger lately.
I haven't called, I haven't written. If I actually sent Christmas cards, I probably would have forgotten to send one to my blog, or I would have spelled her name wrong, I'm that bad of a blogger as of late.
There are reasons for these things; it isn't you, Blog, it's me.
And the fact that the neighbors figured out I was borrowing from their WiFi and locked it.
And then there was the issue of putting the finishing touches on what became a six-month flooring project (the last shoe molding and thresholds were installed this weekend! I'm all done!)Thanks to Zack for letting me borrow his nail guns...makes things go so much quicker.
I am back in the mode of being a storyteller. Sometimes I feel like I live stories so often I forget to live presently and as I am falling asleep I regret this.
I am able to go home for Christmas; I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to swing it but it looks like a go. My mother is once again on her Hanukkah kick and I have a strange feeling my sisters are getting behind it, even as I remind them that we aren't actually Jewish. We are Swedish. And Scotch-Irish. And Cherokee. I point this out and they act a little hurt that i stifle this. I'd say I don't like being the Scrooge but then I remember I've always been the Scrooge.
In Spanish, the word for party pooper is Aguafiesta: literally throwing the water on the party.
I believe there are some parties that probably need a little water thrown on them.
Speaking of parties, Saturday is the yearly swanky party at the Harmon House. I'm going to apologize in advance for whatever happens.